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Sing

Posted on Friday, September 11, 2015

In a dark room, lined with occupied bunk-beds, I find myself lying awake.  The box fan that is precariously sandwiched within the window frame is rattling and there is a nostalgic aroma of a high school locker room in the air.  The absence of air-conditioning has intensified the northeastern summer and I lay sweaty atop a sleeping bag on a plastic lined mattress.   However, these factors are not the reason I’m awake. In fact, it’s nothing to do with the external.   I find myself unable to express in words what I’m feeling to my father.  I try to speak, it won’t come out. I roll over and stare into the blackness; nothing.   I need to sing.  The room is dark, but I gather my glasses and head downstairs.  I prop open the front door with a trash can and sit down in the courtyard and release my voice.  The sounds that come out express a passion and love I was incapable to do silently.  There’s no one here but me and him and I am content.  I sing out towards the stars; the words might not be mine but the feelings are from my soul.  My heart is once again being pressed towards his son.  Sometimes you just have to sing. 

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